


Secret Harmonies

by protostar (variablestar)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bokuto looks Good in glasses, Established Relationship, Feat. Akaashi's family, Fluff, I had to restart this fic five times to get it right can you believe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 22:58:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11241042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/variablestar/pseuds/protostar
Summary: Keiji is going to stab himself in the foot.Bokuto Koutarou looks good in glasses.  Akaashi Keiji might actually die.





	Secret Harmonies

            Keiji is going to stab himself in the foot.

 

            He’s distracted when practice ends and the team starts making their way into the clubroom, with how tired he is from the long practice and how soaked his uniform is from the pouring rain outside. He wants to go home, put on something dry and warm, have dinner with his family, study with Bokuto. So he isn’t paying much attention to anyone else — namely Bokuto — until they’re starting back out the door, trying to work out how they’ll both fit under the umbrella Keiji has.

 

            Which is when he notices Bokuto’s glasses.

 

            He wasn’t wearing them earlier. Keiji would’ve known — would’ve _noticed_ — if he was. He’s stuck somewhere between trying to figure out if Bokuto ever once mentioned even having glasses, and the thought that no one has any right to look _that_ good in them, when Bokuto opens the umbrella.

 

            “It’ll work, if you stand close,” he decides. “At least it isn’t windy, right Akaashi?”

 

            He means to agree, means to maybe make a stupid joke that only Bokuto would ever appreciate, but his mind is stuck on his _stupidly attractive face_ and the fact that Keiji might actually be dying, and what comes out instead is, “You have glasses, Bokuto-san?”

 

            If this catches Bokuto off guard, he doesn’t show it. He only grins and nods and says, “Yeah! Things get kinda fuzzy if they’re too far away. I like contacts better, but they were bugging me all day, so I took ‘em out.”

 

            Keiji only nods, not trusting himself to say more, and tugs Bokuto by the hand so they can start the walk to the train.

 

            The walk isn’t long, but the bottoms of Keiji’s pants are getting soaked through from the rain and all the scattered puddles, and it isn’t necessarily all that warm out, either. He’s positive Bokuto has never once mentioned needing glasses before this.

 

            “Hey, hey, Keiji, we should go out this weekend,” Bokuto says as they wait at the station. He’s looking over at Keiji with the bright smile that always makes his heart stutter, and their fingers are overlapping on the umbrella handle. He’s holding the umbrella so it covers Keiji more, and now the water is starting to soak his hair. “I wanna get Hikaru that book for his birthday.”

 

            “Sure, Bokuto-san. We can do that.”

 

            “And we can get lunch, too! We can get katsudon and Hikaru’s book, and we can take Atlas to the dog park.”

 

            Keiji nods and gives Bokuto another look. No, okay, it’s definitely unfair how nice he looks in glasses. It’s even more unfair that no one gave him any warning for this. He spends nearly the whole train ride stealing glances at Bokuto, who’s going back and forth between texting Kuroo about the upcoming tournament, and playing a game that Kenma showed him the last time they met for breakfast.

 

            By the time they get to Keiji’s house, he’s decided two things: first, that he’s going to cash in on one of the many favors Hiro owes him so he can have some tea, and second, that it’s a great injustice that Bokuto never once told him about his glasses.

 

            Hikaru’s perched at the top of the stairs with a new manga volume when they walk in the door, and he can hear Rui cursing in the other room.

 

            “Hiro home?” Keiji asks as he toes off his shoes. He leans the umbrella against the wall by the door.

 

            “Helping with dinner,” Hikaru says. He doesn’t bother looking up from the page he’s reading.

 

            “Okaasan?”

 

            “Shopping with Kimi.”

 

            Keiji nods, then starts walking down the hall to his room, Bokuto at his side. The shoulder of his school uniform is just as soaked through as the bottoms of Keiji’s pants.

 

            “You can borrow a sweater if you’d like, Bokuto-san,” Keiji says. There’s probably one that’s big enough to fit him decently. And if not, there’s always Hiro’s old clothes. “Better than you getting sick.” He looks back at him, sees his dripping hair, and adds, “Maybe a towel, too.”

 

            “Okay, Keiji!” Bokuto sets his bag down in the corner near where Keiji dropped his, and Keiji sorts through his closet in search of something that Bokuto can wear. He figures Bokuto must want to change out of his cold, damp clothes just as much as Keiji does.

 

            He hands him a worn sweater that used to belong to Hiro, that Keiji wears constantly despite it still being a tad too big on him, and Bokuto’s quick to shuck off his school shirt to swap it out. Keiji distracts himself with finding a pair of sweatpants to pull on. He leads Bokuto to the bathroom so he can dry his hair off, and carries on to the kitchen to ask Hiro for tea. Maybe the glasses are a new thing. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t said anything about them before.

 

            “Look who’s back,” Hiro coos when he sees his brother come in. “No Bo today?”

 

            “He’s drying off,” Keiji says, taking a seat at the counter. “It’s pouring. Put on some tea, please, it’s freezing.”

 

            “You know what, I will, because you just asked _so_ nicely, I can’t resist.”

 

            “You will because I fixed the dent you put in the car last weekend.”

 

            “ _Keiji!_ You weren’t supposed to talk about that!” Hiro hisses. Behind him, Kaori’s laughing.

 

            “Tea, Hiro.”

 

            Kaori gives Hiro a wicked grin as he shuffles toward the kettle, then turns to Keiji. “You wouldn’t share your umbrella with Bokuto?” she says. “That’s harsh, Kei.”

 

            “Of course I shared,” Keiji says. “It’s his own fault he got rained on.”

 

            “Sure, sure. Do you— Bokuto!”

 

            Keiji looks to where Kaori shifts her gaze to, to where Bokuto is coming into the kitchen with the towel still draped over his hair.

 

            “Bo, when did you get glasses?” Hiro says. “They look good.”

 

            “Oh, uh, I’ve had glasses since middle school, but I don’t really wear them much,” Bokuto says. He sits next to Keiji, moving his stool to be closer. “They kinda get in the way. ’Specially with volleyball.”

 

            And of course Keiji can’t help staring. Because Bokuto’s there in glasses and Keiji’s sweater, and it’s kind of killing him a little bit. Which is something of a mistake, to let his eyes catch on him like this, when Hiro is standing on the other side of the counter, watching them both.

 

            It’s become something of a routine, that Bokuto comes home with Keiji at least three days out of the week. Bokuto likes being with Keiji’s family, as loud and disruptive and prone to starting kitchen fires as they are. And Keiji likes having Bokuto around his family — he mixes with them so perfectly, and everyone adores him. Kimi especially, who practically clings to Bokuto’s side when he’s around.

 

            The issue with this is, it’s given Hiro a _lot_ to hang over Keiji’s head, and he and the twins have been teasing him ruthlessly for the past few months, ever since he first brought Bokuto over. He knows in this instant that the glasses are about to make all of that worse.

 

            Hiro looks like he wants to say something, but Rui comes in before he gets the chance, and Keiji breathes a sigh of relief.

 

            “Kei, help me tie this knot before I commit murder,” she says. She has a needle and thread in one hand, and one of her shirts in the other. “The knot I tied keeps pulling through the shirt because it’s too small, and it’s _bullshit_.”

 

            “Language,” Keiji says. He takes the needle and thread from her and tries to start tying the ends into a thick enough knot. “Since when do you sew?”

 

            “Since you got too busy to do it for me. You’re a shitty teacher, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

 

            “I’m a great teacher, and maybe you just suck.”

 

            “Maybe you’re an asshole.”

 

            “Maybe I am.”

 

            Beside him, Bokuto laughs, loud and bright, and Keiji jumps, glancing over at him. Which, okay, this is where Keiji actually dies, because the towel has fallen to the ground and his hair is down and free of the usual spikes, which sure, Keiji’s seen plenty of times before by now, but the _glasses_ , and Bokuto has the most beautiful _laugh_ , and _oh_.

 

            _Oh_ , it’s too much.

 

            He’s going to get so much shit from Hiro.

 

            “Here,” Keiji says, tying the knot tight and forcing his eyes back to Rui. “That should be good.” He passes the needle and thread back. “Don’t poke yourself.”

 

            “Too late,” Rui snorts. “I did, like, eight times trying to get this shit to work. But thanks.”

 

            “Hey, Keiji, I didn’t know you could sew,” Bokuto says. He looks interested and delighted and Keiji is such a goner.

 

            “Someone had to learn,” Keiji says. “I’m not really that good at it.”

 

            “He means it always looks ugly,” Kaori cuts in. “It’s sufficient, but it isn’t pretty.”

 

            “Like the Hiro of sewing jobs,” Rui muses.

 

            “ _Asshole_.”

 

            “Hiro, don’t swear,” Keiji says.

 

            “Fuck off! Whose side are you on, anyway?”

 

            “My own.”

 

            “You’re an asshole, too.”

 

            “I believe the tea’s ready.”

 

            Hiro narrows his eyes at Keiji, but he turns and walks back to the stove. Keiji glances at Bokuto, and finds he’s already watching Keiji, trying to stifle his laughter. He’s too pretty, and Keiji can feel his cheeks warming, and it isn’t fair.

 

            “Oh, hey, Bokuto! I finished Hikaru’s present, come see!” Rui says, bouncing on her toes and already reaching for Bokuto’s arm. He’s happy to follow her up to her room to see the painting she’s been working on for the last few weeks.

 

            Which leaves Keiji alone with Hiro and Kaori.

 

            “Say, Keiji,” Hiro says after a moment. _Here it goes_. “Can you get the cinnamon out, please? Be a dear, why don’t you.”

 

            Keiji levels Hiro with a look, not liking where this is going at all. He slowly gets up and walks to the cabinet, waiting for the ball to drop. He reaches for where the cinnamon should be, but there’s nothing there.

 

            “It’s not here, Hiro.”

 

            “You don’t see it?” Hiro asks, looking over.

 

            “No.”

 

            “Mm. Maybe you need _glasses_.”

 

            “You know, Hiro—“

 

            “Kei,” Kaori says. Keiji glances towards her. “Kei, how many fingers am I holding up?”

 

            “ _Why._ “

 

            “I just think it’s so _adorable_ ,” Hiro says, propping his chin in his hands. “You’re not even close to subtle.”

 

            “You ain’t slick, Kei,” Kaori agrees, mimicking Hiro’s position. “I didn’t even know Bokuto had glasses. It’s a good look though, honestly.”

 

            “Oh, I think he knows.” Hiro grins in the specific way Keiji hates. “Doesn’t get more obvious than Keiji.”

 

            “He’s—“

 

            “You can both shut up now,” Keiji interjects. Maybe they should start going to Bokuto’s house after school. His siblings are all sweet and nice and would never go for a personal attack like this.

 

            “So rude,” Hiromi huffs. “Does Bokuto know you lack such manners? He should be able to see how rude you are so clearly, with his glasses. Speaking of, you haven’t actually shared what you think of them—“

 

            “What I think is that I’m going to help myself to your ice cream if you don’t shut your mouth,” Keiji says.

 

            “You will _not_.”

 

            “ _Watch me._ “

 

            “Keiji!” Bokuto slides back into the room, and immediately starts hanging off Keiji’s shoulders. “Keiji, did you see Rui’s painting? It’s incredible!”

 

            Keiji turns his head so he can meet Bokuto’s eyes, and he can’t keep himself from smiling at how excited he looks. “I saw. It’s very nice.”

 

            “She’s so talented!”

 

            “She is. Did you see what she made for my last birthday? It’s in my room, if you’d like to look at it.”

 

            “Yes! Show me!”

 

            Keiji nods. He takes the two mugs of tea from Hiro, shooting him one final look before bringing Bokuto back to his room. This isn’t the smoothest escape he could’ve managed, and Hiro’s sure to tease him for it later, but it’s fine. It’s fine, because now he can be with Bokuto without his siblings’ prying and taunting.

 

            He sets the tea on his desk and moves to get the framed drawing from Rui off his bookshelf. He’s been wanting to hang it on the wall somewhere, but there’s no good place for it.

 

            “An owl!” Bokuto says when Keiji passes it to him. He looks positively _elated_. “She made this? Keiji, she’s so amazing! You know?”

 

            Keiji finds himself matching Bokuto’s grin. “I know. She’s amazing.”

 

            Bokuto eagerly nods, and Keiji determines that he has definitely died, and his boyfriend is his cause of death.

 

            “Would you like to get some homework done before dinner?” Keiji asks once Bokuto has — very gingerly — returned Rui’s art to the bookshelf. “Less to do after, then.”

 

            “Yeah! Yeah, let’s do that.”

 

            They sit at Keiji’s desk, with Bokuto pulling the extra chair over like he always does, and it’s nice and relaxing and Bokuto’s feet keep nudging against Keiji’s ankles as they work. It wouldn’t be wrong to say this is possibly Keiji’s favorite way to spend the evening.

 

            It’s nearly an hour before Bokuto gets too frustrated with his math homework, and pulls the glasses off his face to rub at his eyes.

 

            “Keiji, I need a break, I can’t hear,” he mutters.

 

            Keiji snorts a laugh. “I don’t think that’s quite how that works.”

 

            “No, I can’t hear, see? Glasses are gone,” Bokuto insists. “Have to take a break.”

 

            Keiji hums, studies Bokuto for just a moment. Well, okay. Maybe there’s _one_ way he could be spending his evening that’s even better.

 

            He takes Bokuto’s glasses from the desk and carefully sets them back on his face, lets his hands move to tangle in his hair. He pulls Bokuto closer, just so their lips barely brush. “That’s fine. We can take a break.”

 

            He can feel Bokuto’s grin, and okay, yeah, he’s definitely trying to kill Keiji. And yet, Keiji can’t think of one reason to mind that.

**Author's Note:**

> i,,,,forgot how to write
> 
> thank you very much for reading!! here's my [tumblr](http://protostxr.tumblr.com/) if you're at all interested!


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